


The Lone Wolf

by GhostLady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostLady/pseuds/GhostLady
Summary: The new King in the North has sent men to begin colonising beyond the Wall. Five years later, new towns are being added to the map, settlements are growing larger and crops sustaining more people.Now it is time for women to sail to the Frozen Shores to join them. They are to be known as 'The Maids to make Wives'. Sansa has taken the place of one of the fallen before they are to leave from Moles Town.She unfolds the scroll again, her intended was her only chance at escape and he would not even know it. She whispers his name like a prayer, "Jon Snow".Game of Thrones AU. A Jamestown inspired fic.





	1. Chapter One: Dark Words

 

Sansa’s new life began at the end of another’s. She should be used to it by now. The numbness should be a known friend, the dark shroud of death should be a familiar comfort as she loses another that had once been close to her.

But she was a woman now, so she had put away childish things like dresses and dolls, her useless tears and the idea of love.

She was as icy as the bitter fortress that would soon be her new home. But then again she had always been a bad liar. Even to herself. It was still there, buried deep down and lost like a stone statue in the never ending turns of Winterfells crypt.

She felt it again, that flicker of pain at the mention of her lost family home. She was still weak, still a stupid girl.

“It’s a sad sight to see. Don’t matter how sweet or young, death will still come for ‘yer”, Yoren spoke breaking her of the trance she was under.

Strange thoughts always went through her mind when death touched her closely. She had been wondering how long it would take for her friend to look dead and not just sleeping and if she would see her lips turn blue or the flesh of her cheeks sink into her face. Sansa thought back to just last night, her and Jeyne were still reacquainting themselves with one another again, when they met by chance upon the Kingsroad. They stayed together, perhaps because the feeling of their old comforting childhood resurfaced between them and Sansa didn’t want to feel alone anymore.

_The lone wolf dies_.

Jeyne had offered to share her room, had even used her own gold to pay for food to warm Sansa’s belly for days now. And the dye in her hair to keep her identity hidden while they were in Moles Town. Even after all the years that they had been absent from each others lives, since she had left the North and then the months since she had fled the South, she had helped her. Jeyne did not owe her a thing, but she had risked her life and her own future all the same. And she knew she did not deserve it, but she took the help anyways even with the guilt eating her up.

“Maybe it’s a blessing”. She remembered the ravens that had come to deliver news to several of the women waiting at the inn in the early hours of the morn.

It had squawked at Jeyne when she took the parchment and she had heard her mothers voice then, ' _Dark wings, Dark words’._

Where Jeyne was heading was no place for her. She was still a sweet girl just like Yoren had said. Too sweet and soft for beyond the wall.

She had heard the stories over the years while she was held captive with the King in the Stormlands and had garnered bits and pieces as she travelled further North. The King in The North had wanted to expand his hold and rule even further. He had sent men who were willing to go beyond the Wall to start that venture, different groups had been gone for near on five years now.

New towns were being added to the map, settlements grew larger, crops sustaining more people. He called the men who fought in his name heroes and said songs would be sung of their glory and bravery. And that it was time for many of his Winter Knights to have wives now, to start sowing seeds for future generations.

But Sansa knew that they were just that- stories. Who knew what kind of life one would have that far away from civilisation and what kind of husband. Wildings still inhabited beyond the wall and if reports were true still proving to be trouble.

That’s where these women were going , a new life- a hard life. The King was giving gold to those willing to sweeten the venture, she supposes its the least he could as the women were bargaining with their lives.

And poor, sweet Jeyne would could have actually been safer for her to go there. The North was no longer a haven for those who had supported her family. Her family, her fault. The guilt made her bite at her lip.

“Aye, maybe you’re right. Still, bad luck I reckon to be going one short on the first carriage there. Someone’s gonna be disappointed”, he grasped at his quill dipping it the black ink and went to cross out her friends name.

“Wait”- the words tumbled out quickly, too quickly for her mind to even catch up on the plan that was still forming. She paused for some time mulling it over, a part of her trying to talk herself out of it, it would never work.

She turned to Yoren whose hand had remained still. He raised an eyebrow at her then, as though he were reading her mind and curious to see which road she would travel. There was no choice really. A hard life beyond the wall or uncertainty. The only reason she had even made it this far was with help.

The Hound, Tyrion, Ser Dontos, Baelish, Lord Royce, Theon Greyjoy, Jeyne.

She had no one now. She looked down to her poor, dead friend again whispering a sorry in her mind as she reached for the scroll and bag of gold from her cloak pocket and turned to Yoren.

He gave her smile that seemed wicked to her then, “Didn’t think you had it in you. Perhaps I was wrong about you Jeyne, you may survive beyond the Wall yet”. He stepped to his side revealing the carriage of women waiting and ticked off Jeynes name.

She tried to give him a small smile in return, thankful for his mercy upon her. She stepped into the carriage as Yoren climbed up the front to steer the horses. The carriage jolted forward, one of the women letting out a surprised gasp but she didn’t turn towards the sound. Instead she pulled the corner of the curtain up and watched as the men came to take the body to her newly dug gave. She kept watching still, even after she lost sight of the buildings of Moles Town. She kept watching as her old life disappeared.

*           *           *           *           *

Sansa tried to hide her huff of annoyance as discreetly as she could. Her mothers lessons on courtesy still ingrained in her, but Lolly Stokeworths complaining was getting on her last nerve.

The winds were blowing harshly on the fourth night as they settled to camp and as a Southernor, Lolly was not used to its fierce bite.

Once the men had built the lean to, Yoren had rescued them by presenting wine he had bought from a farmer in the Gift to share. They had one cup to help warm their bellies and to help loosen their tongues. They would all be living in the same small town together but it seemed as if they had all been stunned silent, perhaps at the sense of foreboding of their fates that hung heavy in the air.

Sansa made sure that she sipped the wine slowly until she felt a warmness in her cheeks. Then moving a patch of snow, she carefully poured a river of red upon the grass with the rest. Sansa had seen first hand the different ways that wine affects the body and she needed to always have her wits about her if she was to survive.

She kept reassuring herself that it would be fine. Sansa knew Jeyne, had grown up with her, so pretending to be her wouldn’t be hard. She had gotten better at pretending with the years of practice. Sometimes it was a struggle, particularly tonight, when the women had finally begun to commune with one another.

She tried to keep it short. She hears Cersei’s echo, _Only lies have detail_   Say too much and you’ll start to forget and trip yourself up on a tall tale you have spun. She knew there were people still looking for her. And being out of the North for so long, being cut off from any news of its plight as another form of punishment from Joffrey, left her in the dark. Like when they talked about yet another poor Lords family that had met a gruesome end to the Prince. Ramsay Bolton had a bloody appetite.

 

 

Sansa stands still on the last few steps, halting her and Gilly. Even if she was eager to be in a building with four walls and a roof instead of the open road, there was always time for information to be listened to.

Gilly Craster and her sisters Morag and Sissy had met them at Shadow Tower to join them onwards, they all appeared a miserable trio to look upon.

“Wait- you’re not going there to become a wife?” she only spoke to Gilly, who seemed much more agreeable than the other.

“No. My father owns the tavern their, so me and my sisters are joining him. Meera’s going their to meet her brother as well and not a husband”.

_Lucky people. They still have family to meet_ , she thought on sadly.

She nodded, burying these findings away to think upon later. Right now she was hungry, tired and her muscles had been aching for days.

They all ate together in the old Nights Watch castle, dining on fish as they supped in the Great Hall were they would also sleep. She stayed close to Gilly and Shae, liking the quiet calm that surrounded them. Gilly was sweet like Jeyne, but she saw it in her eyes, a certain hardness to withstand a cold and tough life. Shae was agreeable. Brazen, but not unkind in the way she asked Sansa lots of questions and not in the nosey way that Violet had. She would stay away from that one.

Gilly had found it all odd. That all the other woman baring Meera it seemed, were intended to marry men they had never met. It wasn’t to Sansa, who when she was still a princess knew she would marry another King or Lord she had never met, if her father had wished it.

This situation held another aspect that would be an advantage to her. The intended brides and men had never met, had never wrote to each other, all each of them had was a slip of parchment with one another’s name. Sansa could play this game and be someone else.

She settles in for the night, snuggling beneath her fur and pressing close to Shae to share warmth. Pulling the parchment out again from her cloak she opens it, smoothing out the crease and whispers his name like a prayer, “Jon Snow”.

They travel for another week by ship, captained by Ser Davos to the new towns along the Frozen Shores. The town this ship was destined for was named Boltonspoint, in honour of the King.

In that week when a storm had hit, when the waves had reared up as high Winterfells walls and crashed down upon them, a fever had fallen upon her. Many of the women had clung to whatever was sturdy for dear life as they swayed, some with their heads in buckets with sea sickness.

Shae had tended to her, used to a long voyage when she made the journey over many years ago from Essos.

She’d been delirious with it. Seeing ghosts walking about the ship and not just in her dreams but even when she was awake. She felt a cloth wipe at her brow, so she grasped the arm and stared at Shae trying to anchor her eyes to something that was still. “I’m going to die out here”.

“Don’t worry, the storm will pass”, Shae tried to soothe her.

But Sansa could not be soothed, not when she was being haunted. “I will die and then I’ll go to hell for what I have done.”

“What is it Lady Jeyne?”

“I had to get beyond the Wall, away from those who hunt me in the south. That is why I’m here. It is why I’ll surely die. I do not even deserve this second chance” -she paused seeing the body of him standing across the hull of the ship, those wide and young blue eyes bore into her soul- “I killed a boy”.

Shae stilled then shushed her quietly, stroking her hair until the blackness swallowed her whole.

“Land ahead”. Sansa jolted awake at the shouts up on the deck, disorientated for a moment, until Gilly came into view handing Sansa her bag.

All the women began rushing up the wooden staircase with wide eyes then and she felt the rush of curiosity urge her as well.

She slotted in the middle of Shae and Ros as they gazed out at the horizon. It was there. A small mass seeming to arise in the distance. It all seemed to meld into one, the greyness of both the sky and the land. There was not a flash of colour in sight, no banners blowing in the wind. Sigils and houses did not matter here, and she was glad for it.

Nobody spoke, they all just stared at what would be there new home growing larger. After tightening her bag over her body, they all struggled with as much dignity as they could, down the rope ladder and into small row boats.

She could not help the hard stare she gave Violet who sniggered at Lady Walda Frey, who had needed some help getting into the boat. She would stay away from that one.

She dipped her hand into the water breaking the swell of waves that threw the head of the small boat up at such a high angle. The waves seemed to rise rougher the closer they got to land, which only added to the swaying sensation in her stomach brought on by the fact there was no turning back. She would have to navigate this as best as she was able.

It was in reach now, the wooden dock they would step onto, the many bleak faces of men lining the town and his face was most likely among them. It was not just some fantasy of escape. She would not be afraid. She would be steadfast like father, fierce like mother and strong like Robb.

The question of who Jon Snow was had been swirling around her mind for sometime now. It was true, that she was no longer bothered about her old dreams of a handsome knight, all she wanted was a kind man. But she was desperate for something on him, to know something about him so she was prepared.

She already knew somethings. She was to marry a bastard. At least he was a Northern one, and one clearly legitimised by a Lord to carry the official bastard name. She wanted to know more. _Information is power_.

Her head whipped around to their Captain, he was a good man she could tell, and a man who lived at Boltonspoint. Someone who knew all about these men.

“Ser Davos, tell me- these men have not seen a woman in many years. They will outnumber us 4 to 1, as a good man, will we have assurances that we will be safe”, she stared at his face hard, hoping to catch more than just words in his response. The few woman on the row boat took notice at her inquisition as well.

“Aye m 'lady. Though many of these men have questionable morals, there are many there that are honourable men.” He gave his verdict with conviction that she did not doubt his statement. But she needed to know more.

“Many men. What are some of those men’s names?” she was being obvious and she was sure he knew it to.

“Rest assured, your husband is one of those men. The best of the sorry lot of them really”. He picked up the pace of his oars, eager to get their sooner in case all the women started to ask questions about their intended.

“Truly?” she heard the soft innocence in her voice and steeled herself to take a moment before replying. She was not a girl whose whole life depended on a man, if he was not so honourable she would survive. She was strong, strong enough to have survived many traumas.

But knowing he had honour warmed her, although with the pool of such few men there the example set of what honourable was here must be low.

“Aye, the white wolf they call him.” She didn’t know how to respond to that, not without calling him a liar. For he was not a wolf. Only the Starks were wolves.

She took Ros’ hand to help her up and off the boat, turning to give Shae hers to help her up onto the platform as well. If her younger self knew she would be helping these types of woman, sleeping close to them, eating and conversing with them, she would have shocked herself into an early grave.

Yoren, Davos, his son Matthos and Will escort them from the dock and into the fray.

The men are a wall of blacks and greys. They look to be as bleak as the town they inhabit. Some look at them as though they have no idea what creatures they are, others look blankly at them. It’s the ones that have hunger in their eyes that make her look down nervously, they stare hard making it clear they have not seen a pair of tits in five years.

She hoped Jon did not stare at her like that, as if she would only be good for one thing here. She looked down at herself then, milky white skin adorned with raven coloured hair, dressed and cloaked in the same shade. Perhaps she would fit in here more than she first thought.

They all formed a line leading up to a portly man with dark hair who stood behind a stand with paper and ink. He wasn’t in charge though, she could tell. He was nervous, barely looking at anyone in the eye. He was not a leader.

“Samwell, all 17 ladies here safe and sound”, Yoren handed over the parchment that had the ticks next to their names. She looked at hers, Jeyne Poole. She was Jeyne Poole now.

“Daughters”, an ugly man bellowed who looked half into his cups as he swayed forward a little.

Gilly and her sisters left the group and joined their father. Craster, his smile was too strange for them, a little too wide and toothy. After getting their names mixed up he gave them a one-handed, half-hearted hug, the only reason for that seeming as though everyone had their eyes on them.

He turned to all the townsmen then with a fiendish look on his face. “I know, some of you empty handed fuckers would love one of my daughters here because all you’ve got to go to tonight is yer own hand. But I see you look at 'em in the wrong way- I’ll take 'yer eye. An you even think about touchin 'em- well, I’ll take more than yer hand”.

She felt sorry for the Crater daughters growing up with a man that crass. He walked off his arms around two Gilly and Sissy sloshing his ale between them. He had his arm a little too tightly around their necks looking more like he was dragging them off rather than guiding them to his tavern.

Sansa felt as though she had a rock on her chest as Gilly would not or could not even turn her head in Crasters arm to say goodbye.

She turned to the quiet sounds of joy to see Meera and Jojen hugging each other tightly. She pictures that it would be the exact same hug she would have given Robb had he won the war and saved her from the Stormlands or Casterly Rock.

Samwell looked off to a man at his left who nodded at him to begin. Samwell started taking the ladies scrolls and shouting their intended over. The higher born ladies that had been travelling with them had the honour of going first.

They had all donned their best gowns the last morning on the ship. The six of them had grouped together showing off their fabrics in an array of green, blue and red hues complementing each other on their choices. They helped braid each others hair and giggled like young girls about their future husbands, some even blushing when their wedding night was whispered about.

She had been one of them once, years ago, when she was betrothed to Prince Joffrey heir to Stormsend. She had swooned, and giggled and blushed. She had been a little bird then and not a wolf and she had paid for that dearly.

Lady Roslin Frey was to be wed to Ser Beric Dondarian. Lady Walda Frey to Ser Alliser Thorne. Lady Lolys Stokeworth to Ser Endrew Tarth. Lady Serene Florent to Lord Waymar Royce. Lady Wylla Manderly to Lord Axel Mooton. Finally, Alys Karstark to Lord Cley Cerywn.

Sansa would have to answer to these people. If any of these Lords or Ladies ask for her to attend any of their needs here, then it was her duty as a low born townsfolk to see it done.

Their greetings were all proper, bowing, curtseying and kissed knuckles. She supposed the rest of the greetings may be different. The low born girls intendeds were not Lords who had grown up knowing how to treat a lady.

She imagined some of the men taking some of her companions she was lined up with, over their shoulders and straight back to their home like beasts. In her mind they would not even wait until the ceremony to bed them because they were bought and paid for. In there eyes that meant they could do as they pleased and Davos had already stated most of these men had no honour.

Maybe that is why the Ladies got to go first. Everything between them looked sweet and respectful as they floated away escorting the women around a tour of the town. They would get them away before they let the savages loose on the rest of them.

She had dawdled in the line until she was one of the last few girls before handing over her scroll to Samwell. The scroll that she had looked upon every night before she slept, to smooth out its crease and speak his name for a lullaby.

Samwell paused, staring at her hard and swallowing nervously. “Jon Snow”. He didn’t quite shout the name, not like he had the others.

There were a few murmurs from the men close around them, the spectators who had not bought a wife but stayed to watch until the end. She supposed this may be the most exciting thing to ever have happened in this town.

Sam cleared his throat realising he needed to speak up. “Jon Snow”, it came out louder but with a bit of a squeak this time.

The men who were watching parted for the man who came through.

Black was his colour, the leathers wrapped around his body like a glove. He had dark and wild hair that blew in the breeze, she watched the muscles on his arm twitch as it ghosted over his sword. The sword in question at his hip looked good at his side, she wondered if he knew how to use it.

She knew why the men parted from him some of them murmuring his name in respect. As he stood near her in front of Sam she could see with his physique it was clearly that he trained with that sword.

He was handsome. More handsome than all the Ser’s and Lord’s that had come before him. She felt that thirteen year old girl squeal inside of her about how good he would look on HER arm, before she shoved her back down again to be buried away. Looks and breeding did not matter anymore, it was all about his values and how he treated those lower than him.

“Sam, what are you doing”. He softened as he looked upon Sam but with no less confusion as to why his name was being called and why this girl could do nothing but wait and stare at him.

“Th-this here is Lady Jeyne. Or- or just Jeyne actually. She’s not actually a Lady but a Stewards daughter. A late Stewards daughter”, he winced and turned to her “Sorry”.

She smiled sweetly in reply. Jeyne would have smiled sweetly if her late father was mentioned.

He turned back to Jon seeming to let his words run away with him, “She’ll could be very useful here, growing up learning from her father how to run a huge castle and she’s very pretty”. Both her and Sam blushed at his own admission.

“That’s nice. Now what’s this got to do with me.” He wouldn’t look at her, not until she cleared her throat his eyes flicked down to her quick and sharp. He had a hard stare that could cut you down if it was swung your way. But she found he could not part her eyes from him.

She thought she would not mind if he wanted to throw her over his shoulder. But he looked at her blankly, why was he acting like he was not ready to receive her.

She gave a pointed look over to the scroll with his name on and then at Sam in hopes he could clear up her intendeds obvious slowness. Had he forgotten they were arriving today or was he stupid and did not even realise this was why all the men were here waiting. She was going to be married to a simpleton, at least he was easy on the eye.

“Jon, she’s to be your wife”, Sam spoke slowly almost to calmly gauge any response.

“I don’t- There’s been a mistake. I did not pay and send for a wife”.

 

 

_A/N- This is my first ever fic that I've actually posted (I have written so many first chapters of stories and never continued them). I also posted this on my tumblr about a week ago, the next chapter will be up very soon._


	2. Porcelain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy, I had a few days off of writing after the finale to make myself feel better by reading lots of fix-it-fics.

__

_"_ _Jon, she's to be your wife", Sam spoke slowly almost to calmly gauge any response._  
_"I don't- There's been a mistake. I did not pay and send for a wife"._

 

"Well technically you didn't but I did for you". Samwell looks pleased with himself. Jon does not and neither does she.

They catch each others gaze, locking eyes before they flit back to Samwell quickly.

"W-Well you see.. er... you was talking about starting to make investments in the town-"

"I meant buying lands to grow my own food or taking up another craft. Not this". He says the last part side eyeing her and she tries to keep her face devoid of any emotion.

He didn't send for her, but surely he would take her. What other options did he have in this small town.

"Jon", Samwell spoke with a soft tone, obviously trying to ease him into the idea. But one look at Jon's stern face and he stopped trying and remained silent. They all did for a few moments until it seemed Sansa would have to be the one to get things in motion.

"You do not want me." That was strange to her, felt funny. She did not like the way it rolled off of her tongue, it tasted sour. Especially looking at Jon, who she thought that if he just smiled at her, it would be the sweetest thing.

All men she had come across had wanted her in some way because she was a princess. They either wanted to; wed her, bed her, hurt her, be a fancy trinket on their arm, to put a babe in her belly or to use her for her claim to the North.

Jon with his wild hair and hard set face was to be her saviour, her second chance and he would not have even known it. And what, one look at her and he did not want her. Her many lessons did not seem to help her now. She could not get a read on him, on how to judge him, approach him and twist him to her will.

She wanted to cry. She would not. But her eyes filled to the brim all the same, so she kept them wide and open without blinking, in case they rolled down her cheeks.

She looked to them both, feeling a slight wobble of her bottom lip.

Jon's face was like stone, his tense jaw gave him a sharp edge. Was he so unmoved by her. What man did not want a wife, a wife like her. Perhaps being in a town without women had made him forget about the comforts and joy they could bring.

That she could give to him.

She shifted to look at her surroundings, bleak and unknown. She couldn't survive here, not without friends or those who looked out for her like in the South.

"What would I do? Where would I go?" She felt the eyes of the last few men who were still milling around the port, the ones who had purchased no wives, stalk her movements.

Maybe her luck had run its course. But she was a wolf and that meant she had a little bit of fight still left in her. She would have to see if she could find some way to melt the icy fortress that Jon seemed to be.

She blinked rapidly, letting the tears slip down her cheeks and fall. She hoped to move him in some way and if this did not work well, tears aren't a woman's only weapon.

She wasn't quite sure if she could elude to something like that. She had seen many things in her young life, but the thought of intimacy always brought a redness to her.

And she was sure that he would see right through her, as some silly girl playing dress up.

She would stoop low enough to tears but nothing else.

"She's here now Jon". Well at least Samwell was on her side and took pity on her at her tears.

"I see that. And what am I supposed to do with her?"

"You can't exactly leave her here alone." At least one of these two men were making sense.

"I'm sure she could stay at the tavern and Davos could take her back south on the next ship."

She cried out no rather sharply. "I can't go back there. I could never go back not with-".She cut herself before she lets all her secrets burst from her lips. "I came all this way," she pleads.

"Fine. I ask again, what am I supposed to do with you then Jeyne?"

Was he really so unbending to her?

"You are to show me around the town, where our new home together could be-" if you stopped being such an idiot- "maybe we will share a drink in the tavern before you escort me to the hall, were me and the rest of the ladies are all staying for the night".

Perhaps he just needed a firm hand. Like her mother so often used to do with her father. Sometimes men need to be told what to do as if we were their mothers.

"I guess I could show you around whilst Samwell sorts this mess out."

She was a mess was she. At least his resolve was slipping. All it took was one crack for the rest to give way.

"I could be a good wife to you. I can help with repairing your clothes, tidying up the home, you could have somebody to take care of you for once, help wash your hair and warm your bed."

It is not a long list and Sansa knows it. She was taught to be the Princess or Lady of a large castle. Not a low born wife of a commoner, she had no idea of how to cook or clean.

His brow is furrowed, he looks as if this is a life or death sentence taking on a wife.

His mouth appears as if to open several times before he finally comes out with it, "I don't know how to be a husband."

She gave him a small smile that she hoped was reassuring. His voice had been edged with hesitancy.

She grasped his arm, gripping tight at the muscle as he tensed and turned them towards town.

"Then we will just have to figure it out together after we wed in the morn." She hoped to soothe him softly with that but all he says in reply is to murmur a quiet 'perhaps'.

She struggles to keep a smile firmly in place as they walk through the streets together.

He takes her bag over his shoulder silently and offers nothing else in response to her. At least he didn't protest, he looked too deep in his own thoughts to.

 

 

They had walked around a few buildings still in silence, he obviously felt no need to inform her of what anything was in the town.

She looked around to see Shae and her intended, who she had named as Bronn on the ship, blatantly rub her backside as he showed what appeared to be the candle makers shop.

She looked back to see her escort who was still stiffly stood, it would seem he would need a bit of coaxing.

"I'm afraid I do not know your occupation Jon." Sansa thought it was the best place to start, make him feel important by asking questions about him. It would also inform her of what kind of life and status she would have here depending on his craft.

"Blacksmith". Her maybe soon-to-be still proved to be a man of few words in about himself, most of the men she had come across had always wanted to show off. At least he was straight to the point.

The fact that he was just a blacksmith was a little hard to swallow, even though she knew her life had turned completely around and that she would not be marrying a Prince or a Lord and reigning over a castle and its people.

Still she must make the most of her situation.

"That must be very hard work, but also very rewarding. Arming all the guards here that protect the town. I think it must be one of the most important jobs here" She wasn't sure, but best to try and stroke his ego. But she didn't think he had one.

Jon was not like most men she had come across and would probably not respond to the flattery she shower Lords with to gain favour.

She didn't know a lot about blacksmiths either, just that they were filthy and would most likely have rough hands from constant labour.

She gazed upon him, but he appeared quite clean, a smudge of dirt behind his ears. Perhaps when they wed, she could help to bathe him of all his filth and troubles and get at those smudges he didn't seem to know about.

And on the calloused hands, images assaulted her mind. Jon's rough hands as they slid up and parted the soft flesh of her thighs.

His eyes tightened at her, "I suppose it can be."

Right, best to shy away from such thoughts and keep on with the tour.

"And where is your shop within town?"

Instead of a speaking in one or few words her betrothed takes them on a left turn and stops in front of a building. She see's the weapons lining the walls and the soft embers flickering from the still lit forge in the centre.

She knew with his occupation that she should not expect a cleanly workplace, but the thick blackness was rather off putting. If she met Jon here whilst he worked she imagined she would walk away with an inch of coal dusting her.

She cleared her throat, a slight blush adorning her cheeks. "And where will we be staying. Where will we live?".

"I live as well. Above the shop."

I not we. He keeps distancing the idea of a them.

"Oh". Well now she was a woman of few words.

That was to it then, a bed above a filthy and constantly smoking shop.

They continued walking and now she was the one who felt no need to speak.

Would Jeyne have been happy with this? She was a stewards daughter yes, but the stewards daughter of Winterfell. Jeyne had grown by her side and had been taught by the same Septa as the princesses. They had giggled together, as they discussed what it would be like to marry one of the Lords whenever they visited Winterfell.

Jon breaks her from the rather sombre cloud in her mind. "There is still much work to be done in building Boltonspoint, I hope they did not paint to rosy a picture."

She remembered to soften her face before looking to him, it would often fall to a sour looking one without her realising.

"Better than some places I've been." And so, so much worse than a lot of them to, she thought silently. Best not to insult his home though, so she just smiled sweetly at him. 

 

"This place might be unkind to a girl like you." Perhaps she would stop smiling so sweetly at him, if all he was ever going to see when he looked at her was tear stained doe eyes on a porcelain face.

She thought he would like her kind smiles after being surrounded by all these gruff men, but it appeared not. To him she was breakable, he clearly didn't see the steel underneath.

Maybe, one day she may tell him of what she'd been through, when he proved himself worthy of her secrets. Her mother and father had known everything about one another, they knew what the other was going to do or say before they even did it themselves sometimes. Their love was deep and strong and she selfishly wanted that for herself.

They're interrupted in their next steps by a drunkard stumbling over a bucket and sprawling out in front of them.

Jon quickly helps to lift her over the man so she doesn't have to trudge in the mud at the edge of the path. He had done that without asking, helping to keep her from the filth, perhaps there was hope yet.

Jon lets out a small chuckle, "Get yourself back home Will. Before you fall asleep where you lay and suffocate in the mud."

The man lifts his face, half of it now caked in brown slop and nods in agreement as he tries to stand clutching at his gut in discomfort.

Jon lets his hands fall from her sides, but she doesn't stay disappointed as he takes her arm this time. "Let us move quickly in case we see anymore of Will come pouring out".

She looked at the man slipping to his feet in distaste. Although she was not sure she could blame him, in a town this small there seemed little else to do for some.

Her waist were Jon had grabbed her firmly still tingled lightly, would her lips tingle if he kissed her too? They never did after Petyr kissed her.

She shook her head, she was being silly again. He had merely squeezed her corset in too tightly and the blood tingled as it rushed back.

At least that man had reminded her of something.

"Where is the tavern here?" Her mind had quickly gone to Gilly at the sight of a man too far in his cups.

"Just over there", he points towards another bleak wooden building that looked more like a horses stable.

When she turns to Jon again he looks at her in a quizzing manner.

"Me and Gilly, Crasters daughter, became close on the ship. And he well, appeared to be from first appearance-" oh how to put it lightly "a bit of a drunkard and a brute".

Jon had a solemn look on his face at the mention of Craster. Maybe, she was right to worry.

"'Aye he's had a problem with just about everyone in this town. But there his daughters, his own blood, they'll be fine."

Oh Jon, how naive of you. Don't you know everywhere in the world they'll hurt a girl regardless of blood.

He leads her forward in a move to distract her and to soften the crease in her worried brow.

"You look very weary from your journey". They both slow a little, as her arm slowly falls from his. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed at his comment.

"Oh I don't mean that you appear anything but- er pretty Jeyne, what I mean is, I'm sure you would like to rest." Maybe the reason he spoke so little was because he was poor at it.

He seemed to time it all rather perfectly though, as they stop in front of the Great Hall, were she had told him all the women would be staying for the night.

He's to take his leave of her then, already.

He removes her bag from his shoulder handing it over to her.

"I'm sure you liked to retire for the afternoon. And I'll see you tomorrow?"  
The sound of uncertainty rang clear in his voice at the end. What a question indeed. Would he even see her tomorrow in here to wed.

He gave a small, tight smile and took his leave.

She was stumped. She had been expecting a man that would be throwing her over his shoulder to take. Or a man like Bronn who could not keep his hands off of Shae.

Not a man so cold and indifferent. How did she not effect. It was unfair, for he surely effected her.

She walked inside, her bag slipping from her sagging shoulders as she bumps into Ser Davos.

"Here already m' Lady?"

She doesn't even try to be gracious and smile, just watches Jon's retreating back.

Davos watches to, "He's a strange on I'll give you that. Too righteous for his own good. But I meant want I said, he's an honourable man, he'll be good to you."

And therein lies your mistake Ser Davos, she thought, no-one truly knows anyone.

Did Jon even know himself know if he was going to be here tomorrow, he didn't sound certain of anything.

"Ser Davos, just to humour me then. When do you next leave here to go back to the North?" Better to be safe than sorry, especially in a town like this.

"Two days maybe, after the weddings and merriments of course. And I'll put money on it that they'll be no sign of any ladies on board my ship this time".

She moves around him so he can leave and keeps her back to him so the conversation can end. She's had it with small talk, she needed time to think.

Once he leaves, the Great Hall holds only her. All the other ladies still being shown around and being taken an interest in by their future husbands.

She wanted her mother. She wanted her mother to comfort her like when she was a little girl. To hold her in her arms tightly, to brush out her hair and tell her that if any boy did not like her then they were stupid.

 

 

She idly lounged on the chairs in the Great Hall, emptying and repacking her bag, plaiting and unplaiting her hair.

She thinks that being alone to think was a bad idea and she might actually have needed the company. Her mind was running away with her, often to dark places. She felt scared and she did not want to feel scared anymore. This uncertainty settled uneasy in her belly.

She was gazing out of the window to the setting sun, watching the gates of the town nearly swallow the deep orange haze, when a few of the women came in together.

Sansa tries to shrink in her chair as she see's who among the women had come in. It was too late, eyes had already been set upon her.

"Typical you'd get the most good looking one." Violet sneers out at her, "At least it brings me comfort that he clearly doesn't want you. Did you see him walking so ram rod beside you, he couldn't wait to take leave from your side".

That girl made her stomach churn and not just because she was cruel.

No, it was because Sansa -the old Sansa she reminds herself- would have probably been friends with her.

She was blonde, slight, with a pretty face and a gentle voice. She had often sang for them all around the campfire on their journey North. But every rose had its thorns and that gentle voice had a sharp tongue, that she would use against anyone she took a dislike to for any reason she saw so fit.

She felt tongue tied because she knew their was truth in it. He wasn't comfortable when she took his arm and he had walked her in a quick circle around town and brought her here as quick as he could.

"You heard what Davos said on the boat. Jon is one of the finest men here. He cares about her honour." She looked to Ros, who had come to her defence and gives her a truly warm smile that she doesn't feel has graced her face since Margaery.

She was glad for women like Ros, a woman that was fierce and strong and reminded her she was strong too. If Jon didn't meet her here tomorrow then she would survive. Survive like she had been doing all these years before him.

It was time Sansa stopped being such a bystander and let people talk about her like that. She was no longer a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

No. Now she could leave.

She stood holding out her arm for Ros. "Jon showed me where the tavern in town is. Shall we take our leave of here to go see Gilly and have a drink?"

"I'd be delighted Jeyne". They both smile too sweetly at Violet on their way out.

They make idle talk on their way. Sansa really tried to stay focused and ask questions about Ros' man Mace Stone, a bastard from the Vale, but she was easily distracted.

Where could she go if this town didn't work out?

She swallowed heavily and pushed the door open for her and Ros to enter.

 

  
There was no wine here, only ale. Sansa had to sip it slowly in fear of bringing it back up again at the sour taste it leaves at the back of her throat.

They used some of the money given to them in parcels from the King for going to wed these men. She may as well put it to some use.

She knows she shouldn't drink too much, but she couldn't help it. She sees now why Cersei always had a glass of wine in her hand. It was definitely helping in soothing her mind.

Gilly had come over to serve them both times, but only stayed for a short time for pleasantries to be exchanged, before she flitted off again.

When she had sipped the last dregs of her second cup, the place had began to fill as the sky darkened.

None of the high born ladies had entered. Probably not wanting to sully themselves at such an establishment, had she still been Sansa Stark, she wouldn't have stepped a foot in here either. But then, she had been prissy and mean throughout her girlhood years.

She giggles aloud in a tipsy stupor, remembering at how she had once thought a boy like Joffrey, with a pinched face and worm lips, had been handsome.

Shae asks what she finds so funny as her and Bronn join them. She shakes her head and hides her smile behind her empty cup.

Bronn purchases them all another drink. In the time it takes her to get through half of hers Bronn is on his third and had treated them to a song that Sansa tried hard not to blush at as she listened to the words.

Her belly is warm, her mind clear and she thinks that the ale will help her get off to sleep easily tonight. She feels good, that is until Jon and Sam come in together, looking to be in a heated conversation.

Jon glances her way but goes to walk past.

She panics. Maybe after he dropped her at the hall he sought out Samwell. They had probably spent the hours trying to find away to palm her off, that bastard.

Its the wine that makes her speak up.

"Jon, will you not join me- us?"

He pauses for a long time, not even bothering to look at her and her wide doe eyes. "Me and Sam have come in just for one drink. We don't want to bother you."

He doesn't even give her a chance to say that it was fine, she wanted him to sit beside her, he just walked away and Samwell dutifully followed.

He had basically dismissed her and she sits down hard as though she were dropped.

Once he's seated with his back to her, she tries to go back to enjoying herself but she can't.

How can one person, one that she doesn't even know, affect her mood so much.

It was obviously the drink.

She says she fine when Ros asks but they all can see she's not. She can't seem to hide it with a few ales in her.

Mace comes and joins them, sitting next to Ros. She watches for a few minutes as both couples begin to start giving lingering looks to one another, Ros bites her lip at Mace and Bronn begins stroking Shae's shoulder.

Its not that that makes her leave or when she keeps staring hard at Jon's back willing him to turn around -he doesn't- its when she sees Violet smirk at her.

So she dashes for the door as gracefully as she can, murmuring a goodnight over her shoulder.

 

The cold air makes her feel better once she gets used to standing after sitting for a long time drinking.

She gets a little way up the path before Shae loops arms with her and gives a simple statement, "He's an idiot."

She laughs in agreement as they walk just west of the tavern along the edge of a small lake that was slightly frozen around its edges.

She's reminded again just how much she likes Shae. She doesn't feel the need to fill the silence, Sansa just snuggles further into her side.

They pause as they hear panting behind them. For a second she hopes it Jon. Its not.

Its Samwell, who is finding it hard to catch up to them. Her heart plummets, and she curses herself for it.

"Sorry about that. I said I wouldn't mind joining you. But well Jon, he can be a bit- well lets just say he wouldn't know a good thing if it hit him in the face or know a beautiful girl that was right in front of him." His smile is kind and she takes pity on his red cheeks by asking him to join them a little for a walk.  
She should feel guilty for taking both of these two away from others they were with, but she doesn't.

They have looped over halfway around the lake when they all slow their movements at a muffled cry.

She's about to open her mouth to ask what it could be, when Shae puts a hand over it, shushing her.

Shae moves her ear towards the sound and her and Samwell follow her lead towards the source. As they get closer they hear more muffled cries and the sound of fabric tearing.

Shae's shoulder are set firmly as she strides forward with purpose. She looks behind her to Sam and finds it odd that out of the three of them, this large man is the one who looks nervous.

The reflection of the moonlight helps them see clearly as they reach a sparse patch of land by the lake.

Things slow down in her mind when she see's the women wriggling beneath someone.

Its Gilly. Poor sweet Gilly, who was doing her best to shove at the figure on top of her. She can't see who the man is, their face hidden beneath a hood.

She is sure both her and Sam are thanking the gods for Shae who is the only one of them who can seem to move.

She launches herself at the man screaming and starts pounding on his back before trying to drag him back by his cloak.

He hardly budges.

She turns to Sam with wide and scared eyes trying to get him to do something, she knows she is useless. How many times had she herself had to have been rescued.

Samwell approaches and reaches down almost as if he's trying to help the man up off the floor and not pull him off. He gets shoved hard to the floor for his efforts.

She wonders if this one man could kill them all. They all appear to be a bit useless as Gilly starts shouting out.

But its then that Shae pulls a knife from up her dress and deeply slashes the man across the arm. He hisses in pain and hits Shae across the face and knocks her to the snow.

She rushes over in the middle of both women once the man dashes off into the woods as he seemed unable to stop the bleeding without his other arm.  
Samwell wraps his cloak around Gilly, whose sleeve had only appeared to have been ripped.

Thank the gods.

Sansa uses her handkerchief to dab at Shae's bleeding lip.

They hear shouts from the tavern and Bronn is the first one to emerge and rush over at the commotion.

He looks to Shae with a split lip and a blood dipped knife, the only one of them who is unshaken over what has happened.

"I think I'm gonna like a wife who knows how to handle herself, but best to giv' that here. If yer caught with it, I'm not gonna be able to find out just how much yer can handle." He grasps the knife from Shae, wiping it on his trousers and tucks it behind his back.

The rest of the tavern is there then, Jon among them.

 

Everything seems falls apart in steps.

The crowd grows louder over the confusion over what happened, people shove at each other to get to the centre.

Jon has moved forward as well, but seemingly to put himself between both groups, as Gilly looked to be stunned into silence and Sansa can't find her voice either.

Samwell can't get his first few words out without muddling them, so it seems to fall to Shae to put the mass at ease.

"A man was attacking Gilly, Samwell chased him off." Bronn yanks her close to him, tucking her under his arm, so the attention moves away when they can no longer see her.

Jon seems to take command, as the Guards who are there for the towns protection, don't seem to quick to bring about justice.

Shae points in the direction the cloaked figure ran off in, and Jon barks orders at the armed men who were too slow to move.

The crowd still hasn't settled, thoughts spoken aloud of who it could have been. But no voice was as loud as Crasters when he breaks through and see's Gilly, weeping with a ripped and muddy dress on the floor.

He seems to be confused though to. For his eyes go from Gilly to Sam, who is sat beside her looking up at those who all stare down at them.

She see's the look turn on Crasters face. She's seen that kind of look he has in his eye many times. She feels he'll have blood on his hands before the new day begins.

"You bastard. What did I say would happen if any of you touched one of my daughters," he bellows down at Sam, looking as though he were a mad dog frothing at the mouth.

Craster reaches for the small axe tucked into his belt and goes to bury it in poor Samwell's skull.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or kudos are greatly welcomed and appreciated :)


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